


swing your hips to the beat

by hawksonfire



Series: Kinktober 2019 [15]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Boys Kissing, Coming In Pants, Kinktober, Lap Dances, M/M, Other, Teasing, Undercover Clint as a Stripper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Clint's undercover on an op when two men come up to him and ask for a private dance. And Clint can't say no, not if he wants to keep his cover, right?





	swing your hips to the beat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraxBarton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/gifts).

> Kinktober Day 15 - Lap Dances. hope you enjoy! _man_ do I love writing these three.

**Clint**

It’s funny, Clint thinks, how often he gets himself into these situations. You’d think Natasha would be here way more often than he is, but it’s really only half as often. “Folks, that was the incredible Archer, give him a hand!” Clint waves, winking, and saunters off the stage, feeling the burn of people watching him - or more likely, staring at his purple glitter-and-spandex covered ass. 

“You have way too much fun out there,” Layla says, tossing him a towel.

“I don’t get the chance to flex my, well, flexibility at my day job,” Clint answers, wiping the worst of the glitter and sweat off of his chest with the towel. He smears more purple glitter over his chest artfully afterwards, then pulls on his iridescent suspenders, attaching them to his booty shorts.

“That’s a shame,” Jessie winks, “You could make some real cash if you did this full time.”

Clint shrugs, “Nah, my day job is too important. This is way more fun though.” He spends a few minutes chatting with the girls backstage - he fixes Layla’s makeup (“You always manage to make my eyelashes look fucking amazing, and I hate you for it.”) and deftly untangles River’s string of pearls from her bright red wig (“What else can you do with those fingers?”) before Carlo comes stomping backstage and tells him he has a request for a private dance. 

“Looks like money,” he says when Clint tries to protest. “You turning down cash?”

Clint sighs, shaking his head. He can’t turn this dance down without blowing his cover, and he can’t blow his cover without learning where in the club Carlo is smuggling the weapons through, or this whole damn op will be for nothing - and more importantly, Clint will have wasted two months and gotten purple glitter in far too many unmentionable places. “Alright,” he says, fixing a cocky grin on his face and walking out into the club. 

“By the bar,” Carlo grunts, “Blond and brunet. Double’s extra.”

Clint swallows a scowl as Carlo walks away, then walks over to the two men at the bar. “Boys,” he greets, trailing a hand over the blond one’s bicep. “Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

“Saw you on stage,” the brunet says, eyes locked onto a smear of glitter Clint knows is right above his nipple. “Couldn’t keep our eyes off you, doll.”

“We were wondering if you’d be okay giving us a private dance,” the blond says, throat bobbing as he swallows.

“It’s extra for both,” Clint says, crossing his arms. The brunet goes sort of cross-eyed as Clint flexes, and he has to swallow a grin. 

“Money’s not a problem,” the blond is quick to assure him, and Clint smirks, crooking his finger at them before turning around and heading for one of the private rooms. He steps back to allow them inside, and the blond snaps his eyes up, flushing guiltily as he walks inside - whereas the brunet just lets his eyes trail up Clint’s chest, leaving a trail of heat wherever his eyes go. He grins when their eyes meet, and Clint cocks an eyebrow as the brunet walks past him, brushing their hands together. 

Clint shuts the door, locking it, then whirls around. “What the hell are you two doing here? I don’t need to be pulled out yet, I haven’t found where -”

“Sweetheart, relax,” Bucky says, reaching for Clint. “We weren’t kidding when we said we couldn’t keep our eyes off of you on that stage.”

Clint dodges Bucky’s wandering hands and eyes them critically. Steve is rather flushed, even for him, and on a second more thorough look, Bucky’s not as unaffected as he appears. “Oh, really?” He says, irritation draining away to be replaced with arousal. 

“I didn’t know you were that flexible,” Steve blurts.

Clint grins and sways over to the corner of the room and hits a button on the speaker. “Oh, I’m _ way _ more flexible than that, darling,” he purrs, and both Bucky and Steve’s eyes dilate. “No touching,” Clint winks, “Don’t wanna blow my cover.” Music starts to play, something that Clint can move to, and Bucky leans back on the couch, spreading his arms over the back.

“Show us what you got, baby,” Bucky drawls, and hearing his deep voice call him baby does something to Clint’s insides, and Clint is unbelievably tempted to say fuck the rules and just fuck these two within an inch of their lives - but there was a challenge in Bucky’s tone, and Clint, like Steve, can’t let it go by untried. 

Clint sways his hips and runs his hands down his chest, smearing glitter and sweat all over himself. He fiddles with the clasp of his suspenders, letting one pop open and fall over his shoulder. He turns around, shooting a glance over his shoulder - Steve’s gripping a pillow so tightly over his lap that Clint won’t be surprised if it bursts, and Bucky’s leaning forwards, hands clenching on his knees as he tries to stop himself from reaching out. 

Clint smirks and continues to dance to the music, his moves and time fading into a haze of arousal as he dances for his boyfriends, teasing all three of them with heated glances and barely-there touches. When he does the splits over their laps, Bucky curses and Steve groans, popping the pillow over his lap. Moments later, the song comes to a stop, and Clint stops moving, chest heaving as he picks up the purple booty shorts from the ground and puts them back on, facing away from Steve and Bucky to hide how turned on he is. 

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps from how close Bucky is. “Enjoy the show?” He asks, trying to sound confident, but his voice comes out breathy, revealing how into this he was. 

“Very much,” Bucky growls, his voice heavy with arousal, “But the rules say we can’t touch. Not that Steve needed much help with that.”

Clint looks over Bucky’s shoulder to see Steve, still on the couch, holding the destroyed pillow over his lap with a half-sheepish, half-dazed look on his face, and Clint snorts. “Glad to know I have such an effect.”

“You have no idea,” Bucky growls. “I hope we can convince you to do that for us again once you’re home.”

“As long as next time,” Clint answers, gesturing to the obvious tent in his shorts which the spandex is doing nothing to hide, “The rules encourage touching.”

“I’ve never been much for rules,” Steve says suddenly, and then he’s up off the couch and in front of Clint, sliding a hand around the back of Clint’s neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. That’s all he does, however, and when he pulls away, Clint is dazed. 

“Fuck, I want this op to be over,” he says, and his boyfriends both snort. 

“So do we, doll,” Bucky says softly, brushing a kiss over Clint’s cheek, “So do we.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on the [ tumbles](%E2%80%9Ccandycanedarcy.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)
> 
> follow me on the [ tweets](%E2%80%9Ctwitter.com/candycanedarcy%E2%80%9D)


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